


The Third Date

by Chichirinoda



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 21:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chichirinoda/pseuds/Chichirinoda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are strange in Night Vale, and even Carlos is starting to get used to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Third Date

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kink Bingo 2013. It's my free space, but I chose "Tentacles" for this one. Enjoy!

Carlos swore to himself that if he and Cecil ever got to have a date on a night when the whole town wasn't in dire peril, he'd invite Cecil in.

On the first date, of course, there had been that buzzing malevolent shadow thing. Though Cecil had seemed pretty much oblivious, it had really put a damper on things for Carlos. He'd _tried_ , honestly tried for Cecil's sake, to put it out of his mind, to the point where he'd even suggested science to give them something to do that would get his mind off of the buzzing shadows all over the place. But even then, the worries intruded, especially when the results came up inconclusive.

Besides, it was the _first_ date. Inviting him in that night would have felt like he was moving too fast. I mean, really. Did people really hook up casually like that? Just go on inside and, you know, do that kind of thing, on the first date? He didn't even know. Maybe they did - but _Carlos_ wasn't going to. He wanted Cecil to respect him, and not because he had perfect hair.

The second date there had been this strange problem with all of the trees emitting this odourless toxic gas. That had been even worse than the shadow thing, to be honest. He felt like, if he'd been less distracted during the first date, he might have noticed whatever it was about the trees that caused them to emit toxic gasses when they flowered, and prevented hundreds of deaths. He’d had a few sleepless nights over that, and their date had been cut short, like the first one, when he’d shoved Cecil into an air-tight government bunker and gone to analyze the gas and synthesize a neutralizing agent.

But today, today on the third date, they had gotten all the way through dinner at Big Rico's Pizza without anyone dying or transforming in their immediate vicinity.

Well, except for Tony. But Cecil said he always had that little funny problem with turning into a chicken from time to time, so it didn't count.

His lab was right next to Big Rico's, so after they paid for their bowls of stewed tomatoes, pepperoni, and cheese - which Carlos had barely tasted, to be quite honest, he was so nervous - they stepped outside. Cecil hesitated in that "well, I suppose I should be heading to my car, which is over _there_ , right Carlos?" kind of way, while simultaneously turning his gaze hopefully in Carlos' direction and flicking those seemingly pupil-less, haunting black eyes towards his lab, then back to Carlos' face again.

Subtle, Cecil wasn't.

That was why Carlos had hesitated so long in the first place. After all, you'd have to be either deaf, lacking in a radio, or even more oblivious than Carlos tended to be, to miss Cecil's interest in him. He'd literally shouted it from the top of the radio tower, beaming his adoration into the ears of the entire populace. 

It had seemed...over the top.

But over the last year, Carlos had realized that just because Cecil had weird black eyes and a smile that seemed to go right through you, there was an innocence about his feelings that was completely charming. He'd realized that not everything in Night Vale was malevolent - or at least, not everything malevolent in Night Vale meant _Carlos_ any harm.

He'd decided to trust in Cecil, and had opened his heart.

And now it was time to extend his trust again.

"Well," Cecil said after a long moment of silence, his brow wrinkling a little as his eyebrows drew together in disappointment. "I guess I'd better get back. Until next time?"

Oh. And his hand, too. Carlos had rehearsed this in his mind so many times, and he'd nearly forgotten the first step.

Carlos reached out and caught Cecil's hand before he could turn and walk away. Cecil's hand was warm. Warmer, maybe, than it should be. But that was nice. And the desert night _was_ still pretty hot, the sand radiating the captured heat from the sun for some time even after it had gone down. So that might be all it was.

"Actually," he said, giving that hand a squeeze and looking up into Cecil's eyes, which had widened slightly in surprise. "I wondered if you'd...like to come in."

That smile again. And those eyes. They were warm, too. Like nothing else mattered but what he was looking at right now. Like he could drink down Carlos' soul, and the dried out husk that was left would thank him for it. But instead, he just wanted to bring him flowers and chocolate and kiss him all over.

"Oh," Cecil said shyly. "I'd like that. Sure."

Carlos' heart felt like it was going approximately a thousand beats a minute as they turned and walked to the plain concrete building next door, leaving Cecil's car behind in the Rico's Pizza parking lot.

Carlos groped for his keys, and unlocked the heavy steel door. He fumbled for the light switch, and the plain fluorescent lights flickered on one by one, casting a harsh, unflattering glare over the rows of benches and bubbling beakers.

"Nice place," Cecil said admiringly, looking around.

Carlos smiled, blushing, though he suspected Cecil had no idea what he was even looking at, and wondered if he really meant the words. "Oh, thanks," he said. "This is just some...some stuff I'm working on. It's not that important. Come on, and please don't-- don't touch anything."

"Right, right," Cecil said, lowering his hand. " _Science_." He had been just about to pick up a test tube full of a perpetually bubbling orange goop Carlos had found in a pool in Radon Canyon.

Cecil behaved himself, walking behind Carlos as he led him through the laboratory and through another heavy steel door. They descended a metal staircase, and Carlos flicked another light switch automatically as he reached the bottom. He'd converted the basement into his living space when he took over the lab, since using the airtight space for experiments wasn't a good idea without ventilation.

It was cool and - Carlos had to admit - a bit claustrophobic. The tiny windows were barred, and you couldn't really see through them - which was a blessing, really. The only furniture was a folding cot, a rickety old chair and card table. For a 'kitchen' he had an industrial sink, a microwave and hot plate, and a pile of mismatched dishes stacked on and inside a lego construction of milk crates.

Cecil stepped past him and looked around. "So nice and cozy. You really aren't into decorating, though, huh? It could use a few personal touches." He sat down on the edge of the cot and grinned up at Carlos, bouncing up and down a few times. The springs creaked.

It was austere, but it was home. Somehow, for the first time, it had become so the moment Cecil had walked in.

Carlos stepped closer. Cecil’s dark eyes followed his every movement, avidly. Even the funny mark in the centre of his forehead - a mark Carlos had a hard time… _looking_ at, and could never quite remember what it looked like when he was no longer in the presence of the radio announcer - seemed to be looking at Carlos, somehow. Usually he found that intense gaze a little creepy, especially since Cecil’s eyes were so oddly black, so unusual. But today it felt good to meet those eyes.

He cupped Cecil’s cheek, and the other man closed his eyes, and _sighed_.

He bent down and loosened Cecil’s tie, and Cecil pushed his labcoat off his shoulders. His hands brushed down Carlos’ arms as he pushed the white cotton coat down, until it fluttered to the floor. Carlos kicked it aside lightly, then slipped his shoes off. He didn’t look as he did so, because he was a bit distracted by the way Cecil’s lips were pressed against his, their tongues touching, sliding against each other, their breath hot in each other’s mouth.

It was pretty distracting.

He pulled the tie off, then began to unbutton Cecil’s shirt. His skin was paler under the shirt, kissed less often by the hot desert sun then his face and hands. Carlos smoothed his fingers over Cecil’s chest, and Cecil tugged at his own shirt. 

They had to disengage to remove Carlos’ shirt, but in only a moment, Carlos was free and he gave in to his own desires. He pressed Cecil down, and Cecil went willingly, shifting to stretch out on the cot, his head pressed against the pillow, and the springs creaking as he got comfortable. He smiled, his teeth showing, including the sharp points of his incisors.

Carlos kissed him.

He pressed his knee between Cecil’s legs, and Cecil parted them willingly, his hands rubbing up and down Carlos’ shoulders and back. Carlos reached for Cecil’s belt, undid it, and opened the zipper. He’d rehearsed this a hundred times in his mind - various scenarios, but each time pretty much the same. In his fantasies, they kissed, they touched, they removed each other’s clothing and explored each other’s body piece by piece.

The fantasies never quite went like this, though.

A soft, slightly wet sensation wrapped around Carlos’ wrist.

In Night Vale, weird things happened so often that, to a large extent, even Carlos sometimes simply passed them by without a second glance. He didn’t _want_ to stop kissing Cecil. He tasted of lavender and vanilla, with just a hint of cloves. 

But… this was something he couldn’t quite ignore.

He looked. 

A nest of suckered tentacles writhed forth from beneath the plain white fabric of Cecil’s underwear. The most, well, _bold_ of them was the length of Carlos’ forearm and getting longer, and was exploring its way up towards Carlos’ elbow with apparent single-minded tenacity, leaving a trail of shiny slime behind on Carlos’ dusky skin. 

Carlos looked up, and saw Cecil watching him with a bemused look on his face. “Is something wrong?”

“Er, no,” Carlos said. “Sorry.”

Cecil beamed and ruffled his hair - did he really just do that? Yes, yes he did - then drew Carlos closer again. “That’s _good_.”

It took a moment of thought, but Carlos decided that there really _wasn’t_ anything wrong. It was surprising, of course. But so much was. And actually, the sensations were far from unpleasant. In fact, it was all very interesting.

More tentacles pulled out of Cecil’s pants, questing outwards towards Carlos. In fact, Cecil’s pants looked almost as though they were _deflating_. Was it all tentacles down there? A part of Carlos wanted to pull out his instruments and begin a proper analysis, but Cecil just tasted _so good_. It could always wait for another time.

The thicker tentacles wrapped around him in a sweet embrace, suckers pressing against his lower back and shoulders and letting go with a bit of resistance each time they moved, like little kisses against his skin.

As his fingers delved deeper, Cecil began giving soft sighs of pleasure, closing his eyes and arching his back. The tentacles were a little moist, and grew wetter, a thick mucus slicking Carlos’ fingers. And there, at the very base of the smallest tentacles, was a sort of opening.

“Cecil,” Carlos whispered, breathless from the kisses. “Can I…” Words failed him, and his cheeks grew so hot they prickled, but Cecil seemed to know what he meant. 

Tentacles moved as if with minds of their own, sliding under the waistband of Carlos’ pants and pulling them away completely, while Cecil smiled. “Oh yes… please, my sweet, dear Carlos.”

Carlos entered him. Slowly. Gasping. Shivering. 

Cecil embraced him with all his limbs, and they rocked together, the small, close basement suite echoing with their cries.

And it was.

 _Perfect_.


End file.
